


Warped Love

by FreedomFighter



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Concerts, Flirting, Fluff, Jean sings, Kissing, M/M, Mayday Parade, but hella fluff, pretty well, very little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreedomFighter/pseuds/FreedomFighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean meets Marco at a concert. Sasha has a plan. And it's really, really hot out. </p><p>(basically this is what happens when I have important stuff to do wow)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warped Love

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so few things!  
> -wow I can't believe I actually just wrote this when I have SO much to do WOW.  
> -I hope you enjoy it and feel free to leave comments with whatever feels you might have or kudos if you choose to do so  
> -Most importantly. I am NOT abandoning the fic Hidden in our Songs/Note by Note. I know I only wrote one chapter a while ago, but I really want to write it. Just, a lot of things have happened lately and it's just really really hard to actually write it for various reasons. But I will! 
> 
> Now enjoy this fic of a love deprived Jean.

Usually, a brightly-shining sun is a _good_ thing when you're going to a music festival. But, today was definitely **not** a usual day.

When we walked through the gate, the entire lot of the arena was already overcrowded with a bunch of angsty punk-rock teenagers (alright, _mostly_ teenagers; every now and again you'd spot a "cool dad" or a 32 year old basement dweller). Various stages were set up all over the area, audiences already forming around them like wildfire. But, all I could focus on at that moment was the god damn _heat_.

94 fucking degrees. I'm talking Fahrenheit, but it sure as hell felt like Celsius. I mean, certainly there's been plenty of hotter days, but never any where I've had to stand outside directly in the blistering sun for hours at a time. And it was just so _humid._ I hadn't even been in there for 10 minutes before I began to sweat profusely. Given, it was partially my fault; I decided to go for a preppy red short-sleeved button-down T-shirt that day, coupled with a pair of bright yellow shorts and topped off with my favorite boat shoes. Yeah, I knew it was gonna be hot in that shirt, but I just felt so comfortable with my appearance in that outfit that I simply _couldn't_ let myself turn down the opportunity to wear it to such a huge public event.  
  
Good thing I put on an overly excessive amount of deodorant that morning.  
  
By the time a half hour had passed, I had already gulped down over a third of my GIANT water bottle that was supposed to help me combat overwhelming heat and dehydration for the next 10 hours. Sasha had dragged me to a food stand so she could buy herself the biggest hot dog I'd ever fucking seen when I felt like I was going to keel over and die.  
  
"Oh come on," she started, "You're such a baby sometimes."  
  
"I don't know how you can just sit there in the heat and not feel like you're going to die, Sash," I answered. "It's never been this hot at Warped before."  
  
"Jeannie, I come from the deep South," she quipped back. She took a huge bite of her mega-hot-dog before continuing. "I wush bor fer th' 'eat."  
  
I sighed. "Okay, whatever. Anyways, where to-"  
  
"Mayday." She answered, somehow managing to swallow and speak before I could finish a single thought. "Obviously we're going to see Mayday Parade first. You'd be stupid to think that we wouldn't. They're on the Kia Soul stage in an hour. I figured we were gonna head over there as soon as we're done here, right Jeannie?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Oh, shut up Jean," She started, getting a bit more frustrated. "Don't act like you don't love them. You're just too cool to obsess over bands, isn't that right?" I couldn't help but laugh. I mean, technically Sasha was right, considering I _do_ like them a lot. I mean, the most band merch I've ever owned was a Mayday Parade bracelet (which was lost somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle that is my bedroom).  
  
"Alright alright," I groaned, giving in. "We'll go now."  
  
"Told ya so."  
  
"Fuck you, Sash."  
  
  
  
By the time we settled towards the front of the crowd at the Kia Soul stage, Sasha had already pushed about 2 girls to the ground accidentally and got into about 6 screaming fits with various other die-hard fans. I just kept my head low and clung to Sasha's hand for dear life as she pushed and pulled until she finally settled in a spot she was content with.  
  
After about 5 minutes of listening to the enthralling story of Sasha's last date to the Chinese Buffet with Connie, the crowd erupted into vigorous cheers when they changed the stage's backdrop for Mayday Parade, and even I couldn't help but to get a bit excited.  
  
Meanwhile, as the roars of the crowd died down, I couldn't help but to notice the cutest laugh coming from no more than 10 feet in front of us. Like, it was so cute that I actually started to blush because of a fucking _laugh._ But I wasn't the only one to notice it, apparently.  
  
Next to me, Sasha was jumping up and down, peeking above the various heads before her. "Marco?" she screamed, her voice shaking with each jump. "Marco Bodt, was that your adorable laugh that I just fucking heard?!?"  
  
"Did someone just call my name?" a beautiful voice resounded, the same voice that produced the laugh just seconds before. Needless to say, my face went 10 different shades of deep red. _Marco,_ I thought.  
  
My thoughts were oh-so-rudely interrupted when Sasha tugged my hand and  _dragged_ me forward through the people in front of us, completely ignoring their gasps of shock and anger while I offered apologetic expressions that went seemingly unnoticed.   
  
When we finally stopped, I nudged Sasha in the side. "What the fuck, Sash? You can't just-"  
  
"OH MY GOD MARCO!" she screamed, completely oblivious to me. She was already mid-embrace before the guy even realized what was happening.  
  
"Holy crap," the Jesus voice started, "Sasha? SASHA?!?!?" (Evidently, he was pretty excited too).  
  
"Jean," Sasha began, finally letting go of the kid. "Meet Marco. He's one of the sweetest, funniest guys I know, and he's an amazing piano player!"  
  
Marco laughed. "Oh stop, Sasha, you're too nice. But it's nice to meet you, Jean, is it?"  
  
"Yeah, it's nice to meet you too, Marco." And, it really was. When I finally got a better look at the guy, I couldn't help but acknowledge how handsome he was. He was wearing a yellow and black t-shirt that suited his lightly-tanned complexion incredibly well, along with a pair of skinny black denim shorts and Vans. His hair was parted evenly atop his head, falling slightly on his face in a way that you couldn't tell whether it was intentional or not. His eyes were big and brown, and radiated kindness like heat. Not to mention the freckles that attractively dabbled his skin all over.  
  
"Jean's a _really_ good singer, you know." Sasha said.  
  
"You're a singer?" Marco asked, his interest genuinely piqued. "Wow, I really wish I could sing. I can just play piano."  
  
"Playing piano is awesome though!" I answered, somehow feeling like I _had_ to be extremely nice, because I _wanted_ to. "Plus I'm sure you'd be a really good singer if you tried. You have a really smooth, soothing speaking voice."  
  
When I saw the huge smirk spread across Sasha's already-mischievous face, I knew I made a _huge_ mistake and was _obviously_ flirting. _God damnit, Jean._

However, I could have sworn I saw Marco's cheeks tint red before he gave one of the most beautiful grins I've ever seen. "Well thank you! That's really nice of you." Even his giggle was beautiful.  
  
Sasha moved in closer, as the people around began to push inwards. "Are you here alone, Marco?"  
  
"Yeah," he frowned. "my friends were with me, but they got separated somewhere in the crowd. I lost them a while back, so I'm actually really happy you guys came along." His expression seemed to lighten up a bit.  
  
"Well, I'm glad we could be of service," I said, jokingly, which actually caused Marco to laugh, meaning he had to think I was at least somewhat funny, right?  
  
 _"And he's gay,"_ Sasha quickly and inconspicuously whispered in my ear from behind me. It took everything I had not to turn into a tomato right then and there _._

The fact of the matter is, I had only told Sasha about my attraction to guys barely a month before. Ever since, she'd been trying to set me up with someone, meaning I _totally_ should have seen this coming, and for all I knew, Sasha had this whole encounter planned out from the very start.  
  
And from what I could tell from the sly look on her face, she _definitely_ did.

 

It turned out that Marco lives in the same town as us, but goes to a private school, which would explain why I'd never met him before. By the time Mayday Parade actually made their appearance on the stage, Marco and I had already shared our overlapping musical tastes with one another, and revealed our respective secret passions for anime and manga (which caused Sasha to erupt in hideous laughter, hence why I don't tell her things). I couldn't help but just admire how kind and free-spirited Marco was, which just made him all the more attractive to me. He's the kind of guy that everybody wants to be friends with; me certainly included.  
  
But, now, Mayday was up on stage and Derek Sanders was about to open his glorious mouth, and _everyone_ was screaming. I missed whatever they must have said, because they started right off with "Jamie All Over." Mindlessly, I began to sing along.  
  
 _"I had a dream last night we,_  
  
 _Drove out to see Las Vegas,"_  
  
"Holy crap!" Marco exclaimed, moving close to my ear so that I could hear him. "You're amazing."  
  
I don't think I've _ever_ been redder than I was right then and there.  
  
Collectively, Sasha, Marco and I continued to jam hard to every song in MP's set, much like everyone else in the crowd. Crowd surfer upon crowd surfer passed above the three of us, each of us helping to push them forward to the front. At some point, Sasha crowd surfed away from us, probably to the front, leaving the two of us alone. When she was in the air, she made sure to send an _extremely_ mischievous wink my way.

I started to feel my head spin when they started playing "Miserable at Best," but that definitely wasn't gonna stop me from singing along.  
  
" _Katie, don't cry, I..._  
  
...trying...hard,"  
  
"Are you okay?" I heard Marco say, probably to me. Wow, was it really hot outside.  
  
"the hard......part,"  
  
My vision blurred, "letting go," and then I was out.  
  
  
  
When I opened my eyes, I was seated under a tent with big red crosses all over. I had an icepack on my head and a huge fan blowing right at my body, which felt _amazing._ I was so focused on the cool feeling that I didn't even notice Sasha and Marco kneeling beside me.  
  
"Hey, bud, you're awake! About time." _Thanks, Sasha._

"Are you alright?" I immediately recognized Marco's voice. I took a deep breath, made sure I wasn't about to pass out again, and smiled.  
  
"Yeah, I think I'm fine."  
  
"They told me to give you this when you woke up," he answered, handing me a bottle of water that I began to open the second I had it in my grasp. I didn't care whether it was good for me or not; I chugged that shit down.  
  
"Thanks a lot, guys. I really do appreciate this."  
  
"Oh, don't thank me," Sasha started, "thank this guy. I didn't even know you were out until after the set was over. Marco texted me and _then_ I came running. He was here the whole time."  
  
Even though most people in his place would have done the same thing, I felt warmth deep in my chest; a good warmth, this time.  
  
"Well, thank you Marco. I appreciate it."  
  
"It was really no problem at all." He nervously giggled, which only made my chest warmer.  
  
"Anyways," I started, "I should probably call my dad to come get me. I'm not gonna make you drive me home when I know there are so many more bands you really want to see today, and I'm not going to stay out in this heat for another second."  
  
"I love you so much, Jean."  
  
"Yeah, fuck you too Sash." _What even is our friendship?_

"Don't bother calling your dad," Marco started, holding up his hand. "I'm taking you home."  
  
"No, Marco, you really don't have to," I responded. I mean, the idea was nice, but I wasn't gonna make him leave early either.  
  
"Honestly, I really want to drive you home. I don't really care about any other bands, and I'm really hot too. It's probably for the best anyways." From behind him, Sasha began making faces that I couldn't even _begin_ to decipher.  
  
"Alright, then, let's get out of here before I pass out again."

 

After an interesting good-bye with Sasha and letting the medical personnel know that we were leaving, we left through the gates and walked to Marco's car.

Which was actually his mom's decked-out minivan.  
  
Somehow, it was fitting.  
  
"Any music requests?" he asked, turning on the soft engine.  
  
"No, not really."

We pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. "I'll put on my Mayday Parade playlist so you can think about what you missed out on."  
  
 _Wow, the kid's got some sass in him._ "Well aren't you funny, Bodt."  
  
"I guess I am...uhm...sorry, what's your last name?" He asked, scratching his head, slightly embarrassed.  
  
I snickered. It was cute. "It's Kirschtein."  
  
"Wait, so are you French or German?"  
  
"Both," I answered. "My mom's French, right from France. My dad's German, but he's lived here his whole life. My grandparents are from Germany."  
  
"That's really cool," he beamed. "I like everything French and German."  
  
"Then you must really like me," I mindlessly answered, not realizing what I had said until it was too late.  
  
 _Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
  
_ "Well, I must admit, you're a pretty great guy," he said, smiling at the road but obviously directing it at me.  
  
 _Well._ "Hah, thanks. You are too."  
  
For a little while, we rode in comfortable silence. Well, _kind_ of comfortable silence. I busied myself analyzing every single last interaction I had with Marco over the past two and half hours, finding it difficult to believe that we'd only known each other for such a short time...and I was unconscious for half of it.  
  
Marco unexpectedly broke the quietness "Uhh, Jean?"  
  
"Yes?" I answered, admittedly a bit quick.  
  
"What street do you live on? I mean, we're in town, so you should probably lead me the rest of the way."  
  
 _Oh._ "Oh, yeah, right, make a left up here. I live like a minute down this road."  
  
"Gotcha."  
  
And a minute later, as promised, we pulled up to my house. Marco put the car in park, which unlocked the doors.  
  
He turned to me. "This was really fun, even if you did pass out, though I'm glad you're okay, and it was really, really nice meeting you." There were hints of nervousness and longing in his voice, and it killed me.  
  
"Really, the feeling is mutual. I had a really good time."  
  
And at that point, I decided to fuck everything and just go for it because life's too short to not.  
  
I took the longest breath of my life. "Marco, would you be wierded out if I asked for your number right now?"  
  
"Jean, would you be weirded out if I kissed you right now?"  
  
"Please."  
  
There were no moments to stop and think, no moments to reconsider anything. I didn't even realize we were kissing until our lips had already touched. I had one hand on his cheek while the other clung to the neck of his t-shirt, while he had one hand on the back of my head and the other on the center console. It was weird; the position wasn't comfortable, and the kiss wasn't long, and probably wasn't perfect, but it felt amazing nonetheless. Marco's lips were small, but soft, and wanting. He seemed to want this just as much as I did, and nothing was more attractive to me than that.  
  
I pulled away after a few seconds, which honestly felt like minutes, the fleeting feeling of his lips still resonating on my own.  
  
"That was...really incredible," he said.  
  
"I'm sorry," I started, my emotions pouring out in the form of rambling words. "I've just never done that before with a guy and I was just really scared of so many things and your shirt and _your voice_ an-"  
  
This kiss was very short, and quiet, and everything that a half-second kiss could be. "Shh," he whispered. "I understand."  
  
And I really think he did.  
  
He pulled out a napkin and a pen from the center console, writing various digits which I assumed to be his cellphone number.  
  
"Text me later, will ya?"  
  
"Yeah," I replied. "I think I will."  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
